


a pinprick of eternity

by mapped



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 03, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9203264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapped/pseuds/mapped
Summary: Silver decides to read theMeditations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Every moment of time is a pinprick of eternity.” – Marcus Aurelius, _Meditations_ VI.36

It is late when Silver goes searching for Flint and sees him at the rail, a smudge of black ink against a night sky punctuated by stars and a thin comma of a moon. Sometimes Flint does this, stands at the rail as the dark deepens and the deck empties, looking out into nothing for hours on end.

Silver has joined him on occasion, talked of the war and the crew as they stood side by side gazing at the darkness together. But whenever he has done so, he has seen that during these times, Flint does not really welcome company but courts solitude, gripping the rail tensely as long as Silver stays, but relaxing as soon as Silver leaves.

So tonight, when Silver sees Flint at the rail, he does not go to join him, but as silently as possible, he turns and makes his way to the captain’s cabin instead.

The lantern in the cabin burns steadily, illuminating the whitewashed walls. Silver’s eyes flicker along the shelves of books. Inevitably he is drawn to one of them in particular: _Meditations_ by Marcus Aurelius, just another volume bound with red leather and displaying its gilded title on its spine, as though it were merely worth as much as any other book on that shelf, when in fact Flint would be willing to pay for it with the blood of every single man on this ship.

Silver knows what is on the first page, the graceful handwritten note that he has traced with his fingers as surely as Flint must also have done a thousand times over. But he has never read beyond that. He does not know what wisdom Marcus Aurelius may be able to impart.

Perhaps it is time he finds out.

When Flint comes into the cabin a long time later, Silver has made it through a good chunk of the book, tired eyes scanning words that are beginning to blur. He looks up at the sound of the door opening and meets Flint’s surprised eyes.

“You’re sitting in _my_ chair,” Flint says, coming round to Silver’s side of the desk and glancing down at the open page. “Reading _my_ book.”

The low growl in his voice is not one of anger, precisely, but… Silver puzzles over it, tilting his head as Flint leans back against the edge of the desk—and his breath catches, because Flint looks so good like that, the long line of his body sloping gently towards Silver, the broadness of his shoulders more pronounced with the way his arms drop behind him, his palms pressed down on the desk; the open vee of his shirt, which has lately been a source of distraction to Silver, reveals freckled skin and wisps of red hair, and Silver’s eyes can’t help but follow that vee as an arrow pointing straight down to Flint’s crotch.

Silver swallows, hands dampening with sweat. His gaze skitters over the shadow of the bulge in Flint’s ludicrously tight trousers, the creases in the fabric over it, as he tries to make himself focus on the page in front of him again. Flint’s arse is perched right next to the book.

“ _Do not think that, if something is difficult for you, it is humanly impossible; but if something is humanly possible, consider that it is within your reach_ ,” Silver reads. His voice, thankfully, doesn’t betray how parched his throat feels all of a sudden. He drags his gaze up to Flint’s face, stumbling once again on the way up over a certain obstacle. “I can see why the good emperor is such an inspiration to you.”

Flint chuckles. “Yes, those are words to live by indeed,” he says. “But I think that is a lesson I have learnt from you, rather than from the good emperor.” His eyes are mild; physically he’s towering above Silver, but he somehow manages to give the impression that he’s looking _up_ at Silver through shy lashes. He’s definitely not angry. Truth be told, Silver didn’t even think much of it when he sat down in this chair. He spends so much time in this cabin these days; he’s slept in here many a time, in that tiny bunk with Flint. Sitting in Flint’s chair is nothing compared to that. Nevertheless, it _is_ the first time he’s sat in this chair, and Flint is… not angry, but something else. 

“You were achieving things that seem impossible long before I entered your life,” Silver murmurs.

“That may be,” Flint says. “But were it not for you, I would not have gone on achieving impossible things, or anything at all.”

Silver thinks of that night in the cage, of that little glinting knife held in Flint’s hands, then left behind on the floor. He does not like being reminded of that long night, one of the longest in his life. It was as if day would never break.

“What do you think about when you stand at the rail alone at night?” Silver asks.

“How everything ends,” Flint says, and Silver’s heartbeat stutters. He did not expect Flint to give such a straightforward answer. But then, this is what they do now, isn’t it? Silver asks, and Flint always answers. “Are you truly not at all afraid that I could prove to be your end?”

“Well, _you’re_ not afraid that I may prove to be your end,” Silver says.

“I am afraid for _you_ ,” Flint says, heavily.

“And I for you!” Silver counters. As if he needed to say this, when he has expressed the same sentiment countless times in the past. He doesn’t want Flint to die, goddammit, least of all because of him. He has saved Flint so many times before, but—will there be always be another way out? 

Silver has promised Flint such things before. There is always a way. Nothing is inevitable. But he can’t be utterly certain. He can’t be certain that he will be right, when it comes to this.

Flint grimaces. “Would it not be better if we just—”

“If we just what? Stopped _this_?” Silver can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand not touching Flint. His hands land on Flint’s thighs and Flint’s eyes widen. “If we stopped doing this, it wouldn’t make it any less true that you and I want each other. It wouldn’t make our desire to do this any less real. It wouldn’t change what we’ve already become to each other. You cannot walk away from this, James.” He squeezes Flint’s thighs in earnestness, and Flint sighs.

“I have lived most of my life denying myself the things that I wanted,” Flint says. “I have no doubt I can carry on doing so if it is what’s best for both of us.”

“How can you tell me that stopping this is what’s best for us?” Silver demands. “We are fighting so that we can live the kind of life where nobody gives a _fuck_ if I want to do this.” He cups the front of Flint’s trousers and Flint gasps; he rubs his hand over the bulging fabric and feels what’s underneath stiffen. “Listen, you are _done_ denying yourself the things you want if all you want is to be able to touch another man like this without having to fear it might cost you your life, or him his.”

“ _John_ ,” Flint says raggedly, stroking his knuckles along Silver’s cheek. Silver stares intently into Flint’s eyes and unbuckles Flint’s belt. Flint lets Silver, and helps with the rather strenuous task of pulling those stupidly tight trousers down from his hips. And then Flint’s cock is free from those confines, and Silver bends forward to suck the head of it into his mouth, tasting it, before taking the rest of it in. It hardens and swells in his mouth, and Silver hollows his cheeks and sucks until his jaw aches.

Flint tangles a hand in his hair, and Silver allows himself a little interlude to kiss the inside of Flint’s thigh, pressing his lips to the tender skin again and again, following an invisible map until he applies his wet tongue to Flint’s balls, sucking each of them into his mouth, and then heading lower, lapping at Flint’s perineum. Flint swears and bucks, fingers pulling on Silver’s hair, and all Silver can do is go even lower, until he’s teasing Flint’s rim with light taps of his tongue, and Flint falls back onto the desk with a thud. “Jesus Christ, Silver, I’m not sure you aren’t trying to kill me.” 

Silver laughs, breath huffing onto Flint’s hole, and Flint squirms. And suddenly Silver’s thinking about fucking Flint—they haven’t done that, yet, and God, he wants to. He licks into Flint, holding his tongue firm, getting Flint’s hole thoroughly wet; it’s gorgeous, the puckered pink of it, shining with Silver’s spit. Silver rubs his whole mouth against it from side to side, knowing that his moustache and beard are dragging roughly on the sensitive skin, and Flint keens. “I swear to God, Silver, if you’re not planning to fuck me, _I’m_ going to murder you.”

Silver laughs again and nibbles very lightly at the skin around Flint’s rim before sweeping over it with flat, quick strokes of his tongue. _God_ , he can’t get enough of this, and Flint just keeps wriggling and cursing in a deliciously gravelly voice—but fuck, he’s dying to feel more of Flint.

He gets up, standing over Flint. “Tell me what you were thinking when you walked in and saw me sitting in your chair,” he says, as he casually retrieves the bottle of oil that Flint has stashed in a drawer.

“You want the truth?” Flint asks. Silver nods, and Flint reaches out to clasp Silver’s unoccupied hand. “All I could think was how good you looked, how much you belonged right there. The new pirate king in his throne. For a moment I just wanted to turn back and get the fuck out of here and find some peace, leave you in charge of it all.”

Silver’s heart pounds, as loud and fragile as a window pane in a turbulent storm, but he frees his hand from Flint’s and focuses on coating his fingers with the oil and quips, lightly, “So what you’re saying is, you like seeing me in charge.”

“I suppose that is what I’m saying, yes,” Flint says, lips curving in amusement before his mouth falls open in a moan as two of Silver’s fingers slide into him at once.

“Why, you should have said so sooner,” Silver says, smirking down at him. “Take off your shirt, James.”

Flint does what Silver asks, casting his black shirt aside. A noise is wrenched from him when Silver twists those fingers inside him before adding a third. Silver furrows his brows. “Tell you what I don’t like though?” He pauses, curling his fingers within Flint for extra effect, and Flint shivers, his gaze never leaving Silver’s mouth, waiting for Silver’s next words in rapture. “I don’t approve of you _leaving_.” Silver snarls the last word, and then he’s taking his fingers out and grabbing hold of Flint’s thighs, opening up Flint with the blunt press of his cock.

Flint cries out, a quivering sound that could almost be mistaken for a sob. He hooks his knees around Silver’s waist, and _Jesus_ , he’s so tight. Silver can’t bear to think how nobody’s fucked Flint since… No, he can’t bear it. There’s a searing satisfaction in Flint’s eyes, a smile playing at the edge of his lips, the sort of expression that Flint wears when something has finally gone according to plan for him, after a hundred other things have gone wrong, except this fulfilment burns a thousand times brighter and purer, and it’s all down to Silver. Silver doesn’t know he’s done enough good deeds in this life to deserve the way Flint’s looking at him now.

“You can’t bloody leave, James,” Silver hisses, leaning over Flint and rocking into him, building some semblance of a rhythm. “I won’t let you leave. Tell me we’ll do this together, you and I. Tell me we’ll rule the New World together and make it ours, carve it as a space where we can live as we choose and love whomever we please.”

Flint groans under Silver, his hips lifting off the desk in an effort to meet Silver’s thrusts. “Fuck, yes, we will, Silver—John, we will,” he babbles, his hands grasping the edge of the desk. “Keep me with you, _fuck_ , please, keep me.” And Silver thinks, how could he not do as Flint asks? How could he not want to keep Flint forever? This is the life he chooses. This is the one whom he pleases to love: his captain, laid out for him on this desk, pale skin all bared like another blank sheet of paper just waiting for Silver to fill with a good story.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, James,” Silver says, half-choking on his own words. He pushes Flint’s knees all the way against Flint’s chest so that he can bend down for a kiss—a mess of a kiss, more shared breath than actual contact as Flint keeps breaking it off to make desperate noises. Silver carries on jerking his hips forward minutely, staying deep inside Flint, his hands still pressing Flint’s thighs down. Flint begins to work his cock slowly with one hand, almost lazily, the movements of a man trying to savour every moment.

They move in tandem, looking into each other’s eyes, Silver too breathless to speak for a long while, and then Flint’s body is tensing, his eyelids fluttering, and Silver presses his forehead to Flint’s, mutters to him, urgent and sweet: “Come on, James, come on, look at you, you’re so lovely, my _God_ , James, yes, that’s it. That’s it. Fuck.” Silver raises his head again and watches, entranced, the white shimmering laces of Flint’s seed spurting from the flushed head of Flint’s cock.

Flint shudders and sighs, eyes staring distantly at the ceiling, but after some idle seconds, he seems to notice that Silver has almost stalled completely. “Don’t fucking stop now,” he grunts, gaze sharpening, and Silver starts and slams into Flint with fresh energy, faster and harder, determined to make Flint incoherent again.

And Christ, does he succeed.

“God, John, please, come inside me, please,” Flint whines and grinds up against Silver, eyes shut and mouth open, hips rolling up off the desk repeatedly, and Silver doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening and why it hasn’t happened until now. The sound of Flint’s voice begging like that, so eager for Silver’s cock to spill into him, is not something Silver thought he’d ever hear. If he’d known— _Christ_ , if he’d known he could do this to Flint…

Silver didn’t know true power till now, but he’s never felt so helpless either.

“Jesus, I can’t fucking believe you’re this shameless with a cock in your arse,” Silver says, voice shaking. “You love getting fucked, don’t you? You love being taken like this.” Flint moans, turning his face to the side as if suddenly afflicted by shyness, but Silver isn’t having it. “Look at me, James, _look_ at me.”

And Flint _does_ , biting his lip, eyes cracking open slowly as he faces straight up at Silver once more. His chest is blushing such a brilliant red that Silver can hardly make out the freckles amidst the rosy colour blooming all across his shoulders. His belly is streaked with come, and his cock is spent and halfway soft but still twitching. His thick thighs are spread wide, legs wrapped around Silver’s waist, heels digging insistently into Silver’s back, coaxing Silver wordlessly. His eyes, grey in the dim light, are clouded but intense; they are twin bursts of cannon smoke, wrecking Silver to the core. 

What can Silver do but shatter and come apart inside Flint? His legs tremble as he buries himself inside Flint as deep as he can possibly go, his hands holding onto Flint’s thighs for dear life, his pulsing cock consumed by Flint’s perfect heat, a fire that leaves only smouldering ruins.

He collapses back onto the chair behind him, breathing hard. His stump aches like hell with all the pressure he’s been putting on it, though he couldn’t give a damn right now. He feels like debris drifting on the tide, but then Flint’s weight lands on his lap, Flint’s warmth pressed up against his body, and Flint kisses his forehead, the side of his mouth, whispers, “Thank you,” and Silver is whole again, a ship that sails safe and true to her harbour.

He clutches Flint to him in a long, silent embrace. It’s fucking ridiculous how he can fuck Flint and feel like _he’s_ the one who has been destroyed and made new by it, but damn if he doesn’t love Flint for that, for how every encounter with Flint makes him feel as if he’s experiencing the entirety of the Bible backwards in the span of one breath to the next, from the very end of things all the way to the very beginning; from revelation to genesis.

He can feel Flint combing his hair with gentle fingers. He exhales into Flint’s neck and presses a kiss behind Flint’s ear, the fuzz of Flint’s shaved hair prickling his lips, and then Flint gets up and pads over to the bunk, and Silver, as ever, follows.

* * *

It is only a couple of hours before Silver wakes again; he sleeps less and less, these days, even less than Flint. Dawn is only a vague suggestion when he opens his eyes, but he lights the lantern and continues reading until long past morning has broken.

At length, Flint stirs. Silver is sitting at the edge of the bed when Flint mumbles ‘good morning’ to him. He turns to regard Flint’s sleepy mien, before looking back at the book in his lap.

“ _Do not fear that you will someday die, but that you will never begin to live according to your nature_ ,” he reads in a quiet voice, trailing a hand down over the soft hairs on Flint’s chest as he does, ending by drawing a full stop with a finger around Flint’s navel. He thinks of Thomas Hamilton’s inscription. _Know no shame._ He glances at his hand on Flint’s stomach, almost brushing carelessly against Flint’s cock, half-hard as it sometimes is in the mornings.

Civilisation thinks this monstrous. They will make civilisation answer for it.

He meets Flint’s eyes. Flint is smiling, a light in his eyes like the sea struck by sun. If Silver could freeze this moment and store it in a safe place, he would, but he could no more keep the ocean cupped in his hands. Even frozen it would always thaw.

“What say you: should we not heed the good emperor’s words?” Silver asks, touching a hand to Flint’s cheek.

Flint hesitates only a moment. “Aye,” he concedes, and he turns his head and kisses Silver’s palm.

**Author's Note:**

> All Marcus Aurelius quotes are translated by (or adapted from translations by) [thoodleoo on tumblr](http://thoodleoo.tumblr.com/tagged/marcus+aurelius/).
> 
> Comments are really appreciated! <3 I'm [reluming on tumblr](http://reluming.tumblr.com/) and I'm always happy to chat about pirates. :D


End file.
